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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28131114">Working Late</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/pkmntrainer_alex/pseuds/pkmntrainer_alex'>pkmntrainer_alex</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Ichiji x Nami Collection [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>One Piece</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alcohol, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Flirting, Gen, Groping, Strippers &amp; Strip Clubs</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-03-31</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 12:21:59</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,470</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28131114</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/pkmntrainer_alex/pseuds/pkmntrainer_alex</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Ichiji had heard once, somewhere, to never fall in love with a woman who sells herself. </p><p>It certainly hadn't been his intention.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Nami/Vinsmoke Ichiji</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Ichiji x Nami Collection [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2060856</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>16</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Prologue</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>- Hi I'm not dead! I'm finally in my second trimester so the tiny energy vampire inside me is letting me have some of my energy back.<br/>- This is NOT going to be very long, 6 chapters MAX, but I had an itch for some Ichiji x Nami<br/>- Also I swear I will update my longer fics soon, I have unfinished chapters and I'm hoping to get work done this weekend - hopefully <i>Worth Fighting For</i> and <i>Undone</i> will be updated</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>The lighting was obnoxious. True, most of the club was dark - for obvious reasons - but it had more than its fair share of spinning lights, spotlights, color-changing lights, and neon lights dotted all over. Ichiji supposed that was reason enough to keep his sunglasses on inside. He had no doubt that he’d have a pounding headache in seconds if he took them off. The constant throbbing of the music and the smell of perfume and god-knows-what-else was already doing a number on him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Not that it appeared to phase Niji or Yonji in the slightest. The moment they had paid the cover charge and walked into the den of mostly-undressed women, it was like Christmas for them. Ichiji had hung back, not interested at all in the oiled-up and glittering bodies that passed by him, eyeing him interestedly. They’d grabbed a table close to the stage, sitting just outside of the lights, eagerly drooling over every pair of tits in heels that walked by.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Pathetic.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Look but don’t touch,” Niji reminded Yonji, who quickly snatched his hand away from a particularly busty blonde decked out in platform heels, pasties, and body glitter. Both brothers exchanged a lecherous grin that Ichiji did not share. “Touching costs </span>
  <em>
    <span>extra.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is this where you spend the family’s money?” Ichiji asked, voice dry and humorless, trying to find a spot to rest his eyes that didn’t sear his retinas through the sunglasses. Everywhere he looked, he seemed to find another light, or reflective surface - </span>
  <em>
    <span>how are there so many fucking lights for such a dark club?</span>
  </em>
  <span> Arms folded over his chest, he sank down slightly in the chair. It was a foolish decision, deciding to chaperone Niji and Yonji.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His brothers, apparently, agreed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Boooooo. Ichiji the fun police.” Yonji stuck his tongue out slightly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We didn’t invite you along so you could be a killjoy,” Niji agreed, scowling. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You didn’t invite me, I told you I had to come or I would tell father where you two disappear to on Friday nights.” Ichiji kept his voice appropriately cold, and both Niji and Yonji dropped the matter. He knew if they had to pick between him knowing, or father knowing, they’d pick him…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Where was he? Ah, yes, looking for somewhere to look…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eyes tiredly scanning the club for a place to rest, they raked over the bar on the opposite end of the club. Rows and rows of bottles, backlit by blue-toned neon lights. Awful - and tacky, if he was being honest. The wall behind the bottles was a large mirror, which only made things worse. He could see the back of the bartender’s head, the leering faces of patrons sitting at the bar itself, and a curious peek of orange crossed his line of vision before he could mentally comment on the ugliness of the drinking men.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Who was that? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ichiji struggled for a moment to find her outside of the smudged club mirror, but then - there she was. Long orange hair, tied back in a high ponytail, and smooth skin that didn’t appear to be caked in makeup or body glitter. She was more dressed than the other women, wearing red short-shorts and a matching bikini top that barely fit her well-endowed chest. Ichiji couldn’t take his eyes off her as she drew closer, carrying a tray with drinks, headed right in their direction. The closer she got, the more he could make out - large brown eyes, a pretty face, no sign of the telltale marks of drug or alcohol abuse. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>When she stopped at their table, Ichiji felt an uncharacteristic lump in his throat.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Scotch and soda.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Niji took the drink from her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“A...chocolate milkshake?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mine.” Yonji eagerly accepted the tall glass, digging into the whipped cream with his fingers.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And…” She turned to Ichiji, who had not put in a drink order with his brothers, and he found himself staring at her wordlessly. “I don’t think I had anything for you. Did you want something?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ichiji opened his mouth, and his tongue stopped working. It felt dry in his mouth, which only intensified the sensation of the lump in his throat. After a few awkward moments of trying and failing to speak, he shook his head.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fine. Flag me down if you change your mind.” She turned to leave, and his eyes came to rest on her ass as she walked away. It swayed side to side with every step, and the shiny material of her shorts accentuated every curve when it caught the light - and there was more than enough light for it to catch. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Remembering himself, Ichiji quickly snapped his mouth shut, bringing his hand to his mouth to wipe away the drool - but it was too late. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh?” Niji was grinning from behind his scotch, and it was in a way that Ichiji did not like. “So there </span>
  <em>
    <span>is</span>
  </em>
  <span> someone in here good enough for Mr. High-and-Fucking-Mighty.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ichiji did not dignify his remark with a response, choosing instead to look down at the floor. That was a mistake. There was more glitter, along with suspicious-looking stains. He jerked his head back up and caught the girl in his sights again, seeing the light in her hair and the full shape of her figure. She was certainly something else.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Muttering to himself, Ichiji stood up suddenly, jarring the table and making both of his younger brothers jump. Yonji clutched at his milkshake as though it were a priceless treasure, and Niji shot him an unhappy glare as some of his drink sloshed onto the tabletop, leaving a shiny puddle under the lights.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Did I touch a nerve?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No.” Ichiji waved him off, turning towards the bar. The girl was gone...but if she reappeared, he knew he’d see her. “I think I’m thirsty after all.”</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. I.</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>- Please let me keep this under 6 chapters</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>In the brief moment Ichiji had looked away, the girl had vanished.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fuck.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Grimacing to himself as he slipped past the other dancers and drunk patrons, Ichiji made his way in the direction he’d seen her heading - the same bar he’d watched disdainfully from a distance just minutes before. He stood at the end with the fewest patrons, arms folded over his chest, until the bartender slid his way.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Need something, handsome?” She eyed him in a way he did not like, running a black gloved hand over her face to sweep her fuchsia hair out of the way. He had to admit she wasn’t as bad-looking as the other women - not great, not terrible - but he had his mind made up.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I...was looking for the girl who brought the drinks over to my table. Orange hair, red shorts -”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Bazongas the size of your head?” The bartender interrupted, a playful smile on her lips.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ichiji didn’t answer, but he felt his face going red - which the bartender clearly noticed as her smile grew even wider.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ah, Nami. She...had to step outside for a moment.” The bartender nodded at a door just a few feet away, dark and nondescript, and set in the club wall in such a way that Ichiji hadn’t even noticed it. “She’ll be right back in. Are you sure there’s nothing </span>
  <em>
    <span>I</span>
  </em>
  <span> can help you with?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m fine.” Neon lights over the bar making his head ache once more, Ichiji turned for the door. It was perhaps not the best form, following this girl out of the club, but a breath of fresh air and an escape from the aggressive party lighting sounded awfully appealing as well (and that was saying nothing of the dismal smell, which only seemed to grow stronger with time). With a quick look to make sure neither of his brothers had followed - and seeing them thoroughly preoccupied with a black-haired stripper with freckles over her face and chest who was positioned directly on top of their table - Ichiji ducked out the door.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was cold outside, an immediately sharp contrast to the warm and almost wet air of the club. Ichiji could see his breath hanging in the air before him as he closed the door behind him, finding himself on the street and just around the corner from the alley that ran beside the club. In the flickering glow of the street light, he could see some broken beer bottles on the ground, with the odd needle mixed in - but he didn’t see any sign of Nami. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Growing more curious, Ichiji started to walk in the direction of the alley, rubbing his hands together for warmth and thinking about how, if he was cold in pants and a shirt, Nami would have to be cold in nothing but short-shorts and a bikini top. His brain began to wander to the myriad ways he could warm her up as he turned down the alley.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you have any more money for me?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The gruff suddenness of the new voice shook Ichiji out of his daydreams, and he quickly took a step back - staying pressed against the wall of the club, cloaked in the shadow. He could feel the gritty, crumbling brick digging into his back as he listened closely, internally cursing himself for still wearing his sunglasses and rendering himself unable to peer into the alley’s blackness - trying to take them off now would be excessive movement he didn’t want to risk.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I literally just started my shift, and you know that,” Ichiji heard Nami grumble back, voice slightly shaky as though her teeth were chattering. “I have one table. I haven’t had a chance to -”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t want excuses. I want the money you promised me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Squinting down the alley, Ichiji’s brain began to whir. Had he heard this voice before? It didn’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>sound</span>
  </em>
  <span> familiar, he didn’t think. Some low-life drug dealer? Loan shark? That surprised him - even just from his brief impression of Nami, he hadn’t thought her the type.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m going to get you your money, Arlong!” She snapped back, voice edgy and nervous. “I promised. I’m going to get it. Just leave my family and our neighbors alone. I’ve never not brought you your money.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Some kind of protection racket, perhaps? Ichiji barely had a grasp of the situation, and it was making his blood boil. Arlong was an unfamiliar name to him, but there was a chance Niji or Yonji were familiar...however remote a chance that may be. Realizing he’d likely overheard far too much, Ichiji slipped backwards out of the alley and made his way back to the door of the club, stepping back into the warm, wet air and obnoxious lights.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His timing couldn’t have been better. No sooner had Ichiji taken up his spot at the end of the bar, trying to look as casual as possible while touching absolutely nothing, than Nami came bursting back in, wearing only a thin jacket over her outfit and shivering. She was so distracted looking over her shoulder, she collided into him seconds later, tripping fully into him on her heels.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sorry! Sorry, I -” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ichiji said nothing, helping her back upright and trying not to focus on how nice it felt to feel her tits press against his chest. She still looked distracted, even after apologizing, giving one more look over her shoulder at the door as she pulled her coat off and quickly tossed it behind the bar.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I.” Ichiji struggled to make his mouth work as her tits came into view again, spilling out of the bottom of the bikini top that had shifted in her fall. The cold air outside had triggered her nipples to press against the thin fabric, and the very hint of them made his brain lock up. “I. Wanted to put. Uh. Put…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His brain volunteered a suggestion, which he stopped short of blurting out: </span>
  <em>
    <span>I wanted to put my face in those -</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Quickly, Ichiji shook his head, growing angry with himself. Who did he think he was, Yonji?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nami, having seemingly collected herself, was looking at him strangely, brown eyes narrowed and one brow raised. “Put what?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“A drink order.” Ichiji recovered quickly, just as a loud song started in the direction of the stage and various shouting erupted from the club patrons. The lights flickered in time with the music, and he swore he could feel the brightness drilling into his eye behind his sunglasses. “Uh. An Irish coffee. If...that’s a thing you serve here.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He doubted it was, given the strange expression on Nami’s face intensifying. After a moment, she smiled at him, and he felt his stomach jolt sharply. A sweet smile, but with a helping of mischief to it. He liked that.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re with those other guys, the milkshake and scotch and soda? You’ve got it.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And then she was gone, ducking behind the bar and walking away, ass catching the light once more in shorts that seemed to get smaller with every step. Ichiji watched her walk away, enjoying the view, before thinking he needed to get back to his table before he embarrassed himself with a reaction he couldn’t control. Mulling over the confrontation he’d overheard, along with every curve of her body, Ichiji shuffled back to the table, adjusting himself through his pockets before either of his brothers could notice.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. II.</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>- I spend most of my days sitting in a chair in the NICU so I have time to write again (in between all the times I have to get up because my daughter is being a pain in the butt)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“I don’t recall it taking so long to put in a drink order.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I went to the bathroom too.” Ichiji lied effortlessly, dropping back into his seat and ignoring Niji, who was still sipping at his drink.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You would never go to the bathroom in a place like this.” Inconveniently sharp as always, Niji leaned across the table towards Ichiji, leering widely. “Are you sure you weren’t looking for our waitress?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ichiji scoffed, hoping the awful lighting would conceal the flush he felt creeping up from his collar. “I’m not interested.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Liar.” Niji grinned wider still, taking a sip of his drink and briefly looked away as one of the dancers walked by, naked except for platform heels and a glittering thong. “I saw the way you looked at her.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Before Ichiji could spit out another lie, Yonji reappeared, dropping down heavily into his seat. His face was already covered in overlapping, multicolored kisses from the dancers, and he was grinning from ear to ear. He grabbed his milkshake, taking a long gulp before slamming it back down onto the table, turning his attention to Niji. “All done, they said she’ll probably do it. They’ll come get him when they’re ready.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Come get </span>
  <em>
    <span>who</span>
  </em>
  <span> when they’re ready?” Ichiji asked, voice sharp. He didn’t like the sound of that.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“They do private dances here, in the back rooms.” Niji took another drink, and Ichiji could see him grinning through the bottom of the glass. Bastard. “After seeing how you looked at the waitress, I sent Yonji to set up a little show for you, with her. Won’t be as easy for you to sell us out to father for coming here if you’re partaking too.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yonji laughed loudly, and reached over to high-five Niji.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You motherfu -”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is this the one?” Ichiji felt two sets of hands grabbing him by each shoulder, and there was a chorus of giggling at his back. “Getting a special lil’ show from Nami?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ichiji quickly rammed a hand into his pocket, adjusting himself right before being jerked to his feet by the dancers. He could feel their tits pressing into his back as they latched hard onto him, laughing. Yonji joined in the laughing, banging his now-empty milkshake glass against the tabletop. Ichiji would’ve loved nothing more than to smash the glass over his head, even though the idea of a private showing from Nami was </span>
  <em>
    <span>immensely</span>
  </em>
  <span> appealing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Take him away, girls,” Niji lazily waved them away right as another performance on the main stage got started, cueing spinning lights and even louder music. Ichiji narrowed his eyes at his brother as the girls turned him away, steering him towards a dimly-lit hallway towards the back of the club. “And then make sure to come back for us…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thanks Ishilly!” Ichiji heard Yonji call. “Thanks Fillonce!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Interested as he was in getting time alone with Nami, Ichiji still made a mental note to get both Niji and Yonji back later on.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The private room was, thankfully, more palatable than the main club had been. The lighting was low, tinted a shade of pink, and the walls were covered  with gauzy hangings. Leather couches had been pushed against the walls, and Ichiji could strongly smell the lemon cleaner they’d been wiped down with as the girls pushed him down.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You won’t be disappointed with Nami.” One of the girls, with black hair and a spray of freckles across her face, tipped him a heavy wink. She was much prettier than the other dancers Ichiji had seen...but she still didn’t hold a candle to Nami. “She’s very...fiery. I feel like that’s right up your alley.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ichiji could only imagine, at any rate. She had already been stunning, doing little more than walking around the club or shivering as she’d come in from the cold. He could picture her thin bikini top, her tight shorts. The way her nipples had poked against the fabric when she’d come back from whatever strange interaction she’d been having in the alleyway. All of it was perfect, more than perfect. From a girl like her, a dance would be nice, but Ichiji couldn’t help but think about getting a little bit more than that...</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Snapping out of it, he shoved his hand back into his pocket to fix something that had inconveniently woken back up again, but not quite fast enough. Both girls giggled again, giving him flirtatious looks as they turned to leave, sweeping hair over their shoulders and leaving a sweet-smelling cloud of perfume in their wake. Ichiji crossed one leg over the other, trying to act nonchalant as he listened to the girls whispering on their way out.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, I think she’s going to like </span>
  <em>
    <span>him,</span>
  </em>
  <span> that’s for sure.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I can definitely think of one part of him she’s going to like…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Before Ichiji could take the chance to lose himself in another fantasy, there was a knock at the door. Uncrossing and crossing his legs once more, he took his sunglasses off and set them off to the side, hoping that the flush he’d felt in his face earlier was long gone. The last thing he needed was to look like some red-faced, jittery moron - despite the fact he had begun bouncing one leg in place.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Looking no less stunning than the last time they’d bumped into each other (literally), Nami stepped into the room. Her high ponytail had been taken down, leaving her long, wavy hair to loosely cascade over her shoulders, and her skin sparkled in the light with a subtle shimmer as she moved. When she recognized him, her brown eyes went wide. “Oh, you!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“My brothers arranged this without telling me.” Ichiji didn’t know why he felt the need to volunteer the truth to Nami, but it felt necessary - or, at least, it helped soothe the weird feeling in his gut.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She raised an eyebrow, and there was a small smirk as she moved closer to him. He could smell citrus, and it made his pulse begin to race. “Is that so? Is that your way of telling me that you don’t like me enough to ask for a dance yourself?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The blush from earlier came rushing back with a vengeance, and Ichiji felt his mouth going dry just as it had the first time he’d seen her. “No, that…” He stammered out a response as she got closer still, putting one hand on each thigh as she leaned into him, bringing her full tits just inches away from his face. “That’s...not...not what I meant by -”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>not?”</span>
  </em>
  <span> Her voice was teasing as she inclined her head towards his, bringing her face down against the side of his, brushing his cheek with her nose. He could feel her breath on his ear, and her tongue teased against the very edge. “Are you saying you </span>
  <em>
    <span>do</span>
  </em>
  <span> like me?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ichiji’s brain short-circuited as he felt lightheaded, with blood rushing to a very different part of his body. Every breath was heat and citrus, and he could make out every individual piece of shimmer in her cleavage with how close his face was to her. He opened his mouth as Nami brought her hand to his lap, grabbing at his cock through his pants.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Remembering how to talk just for a moment, he croaked out, “holy shit.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re gonna owe your brothers one after this. I’m not cheap.” Letting go of him, Nami straightened back up, stretching her arms to the ceiling as she pushed her chest out, eyes never once leaving his. “But I promise you’ll get your money’s worth. So let’s get started.”</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>- I assure you, the irony of Ichiji stating that he's thirsty is not lost on me</p></blockquote></div></div>
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